


Thorn and Feather

by firefright



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Civilian Dick Grayson, Deal with a Devil, Fae & Fairies, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, NO CAPES, Tricksters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 09:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24967150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: It's the night of the Wild Hunt, and lost and alone in the woods, a young Dick Grayson has no idea of the danger that means for him.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 31
Kudos: 192





	Thorn and Feather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skalidra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/gifts).



> Hello! So I wrote this for my darling Skalidra for Christmas, and it's a little (lot) late posting as I had to wrestle the brain weasels over whether it was any good or not. But finally I convinced myself to proofread and edit it, and so here it is now for all the rest of you to enjoy as well.
> 
> Extra warnings for: Slade being Slade, Slade being a tricksy fae in this story, and Dick being a human with no knowledge of how faeries work outside of Disney, much to his regret. Also, if any of you have read Tithe by Holly Black before, you might notice a certain tribute to that book in here, too ;)

The edge of the forest is quiet as Dick strides along it, humming quietly to himself beneath his breath to cover for the quiet that echoes through the trees otherwise. It had been a long drive from the site of their last venue to get here, and after hours spent cooped up in the passenger seat of the truck pulling his caravan, he's more than grateful for the opportunity to get out and stretch his legs.

Even if that opportunity did come with the requirement of gathering firewood for the rest of the troupe at the same time.

It’s all just part and parcel of living in a circus, Dick reflects as he walks. Everyone has to pull their weight, and so far as chores go, at least it’s a light one. He doesn’t mind the work. Not when it gives him the rare opportunity to experience a little more greenery than he usually gets to when they’re touring. Most of their shows are in the big cities, where the real money is for a large enterprise like Halys. To be out here in the peace and quiet of nature, therefore, is nothing short of a treat, and he can’t help but marvel at seeing the beauty of the land out here up close and personal finally, rather than from behind a glass window or through a TV screen.

Maybe later he’ll even try climbing some of the bigger trees he can see poking their branches out behind the edge of the treeline. Some of them look far taller than even the circus’ big top, but even so, they shouldn’t pose much of a problem for a seasoned acrobat like him, and who knows what else he might be able to see from up there? More of the forest, the mountain range in the distance? A lake he’d spied on the map old Edith, their fortune teller, had shown him? Not to mention, the wildlife. It may be a long-shot, but he’s always wanted to see a real wolf in person.

Buoyed up by such thoughts, Dick keeps on with his task, and ten minutes of steady collecting soon sees him with a sizable collection of twigs and sticks to take back to the troupe. Enough to get the campfire Lukask is so determined to have started, anyway. Dick pauses to stretch his spine a moment after picking up the last one, whilst also lifting his gaze up to admire the leafy branches of the trees in front of him and the slow spread of clouds in the late afternoon sky above them.

That’s when he sees the bird.

It’s a robin. Small, brown and with the distinctive red breast that makes it unmistakable as any other species. Against his will, Dick feels a small lurch of grief well up inside of him at the sight of it, up from the hole where he does his best to bury the feeling most of the time. It’s been five years since his parent’s deaths, yet sometimes the memory of it still feels as raw and new as if it had happened yesterday. Especially now, so close to the anniversary of that terrible day.

Swallowing thickly, Dick adjusts his grip on the bundle of sticks so he can rub at his eyes.

It’s fine. _He’_ s fine. The murmur of his mother’s voice in his ear, calling him her little robin, might be fresh in his mind, but as much as the memory hurts, it’s also not an unpleasant one. What wounds can also heal, and he’s been getting better at dealing with the pain every year.

Or at least, he likes to think he has.

Breathing in deep, Dick turns to head back towards the caravans, only to come up short when the robin calls sharply out behind him.The sound swiftly followed by a small, light thud.

He looks back around again, surprised to find the bird is now on the ground by the roots of the tree, where it flits and hops about in a strangely distressed sort of way.

“What the hell?” he murmurs, squinting to get a better look.

One of the robin’s wings is hanging awkwardly from its small body, almost like it’s broken. Which is oddly perplexing to see, considering that just a second ago it had seemed perfectly fine where it was sitting on a branch. Casting his eyes about, Dick does his best to spot any possible cause for the sudden injury, only to find none.

Maybe it had been hurt already and finally just lost its balance enough to fall out of the tree as he got here? It’s just about the only plausible explanation he can think of, before his attention is taken up with a larger conundrum.

Many of his friends back at the circus would tell him to leave the bird where it is. That nature has its own course to take, with survival of the fittest being the most important rule. But seeing the robin struggle in front of him now twists something in Dick’s heart, egged on by the recent thoughts of his parents, and before he knows it he’s putting down the bundle of sticks he’s collected and shrugging off his jacket.

“Okay, little buddy,” he murmurs. “Going to try and do this without hurting you more. Would appreciate it if you tried to cooperate with me.”

But of course the bird doesn’t. In the robin’s eyes, he must appear as nothing more than a particularly large and looming predator, and so it instantly hops away from him, continuing to let out loud, panicked tweets.

Cursing quietly, Dick follows after it. All he has to do is get close enough to throw his coat over the stupid thing, but it’s surprisingly quick, even without the use of one of its wings.

One step, two steps, three… six, seven… Before he knows it, he’s under the shadow of the trees, then into the forest proper. The air feels thicker here. Heavier. Damper. _Older_. Dick doesn’t pay that thought much mind, though, intent as he is on his pursuit of the robin.

Finally getting closer, he makes a move to dive on top of the bird, only to suddenly lose his balance and trip when the toes of his sneaker catch on an unseen root.

“Fuck!” Dick curses as he goes sprawling, barely catching himself with his hands in time to stop his face from connecting with the ground. He drops his jacket in the process, of course, but a bit of dirt on leather is a small price to pay for not ending up with a bloody nose.

So much for having all the grace and agility of an acrobat.

Pushing himself back up to a kneeling position, Dick looks around for where the robin has gone, only to find it suddenly vanished. Great, just great. Now he has skinned elbows and bruised kneecaps for nothing. Not to mention the poor thing will probably end up sitting in a fox’s stomach before the day is out.

He utters a few more curses as he regains his feet, trying not to dwell too much on that last thought. It’s just a bird, damn it. What does it matter if it dies? It’s just a… Dick stops as he blinks at the sight ahead of him.

He hadn’t walked that far into the forest. He knows he hadn’t. So what he’s seeing now makes absolutely no sense at all.

 _Trees_. A wall of them. Far thicker and older than should rightfully sit at the edge of a woodland. Trees so huge and closely pressed together that he can’t see anything beyond them. Trees, covered in ivy and lichen, dark scarred bark and moss. Trees that, given that he only passed through that exact spot only seconds ago, have absolutely no right being there.

As if to prove to himself that he really is seeing them, and this is not just some weird dream he’s having after knocking himself out against the ground, Dick reaches out a hand to touch the nearest one. The bark is coarse and rough against the pads of his fingers. Damp, too. And when he pulls against a loose piece of it, damaged somehow and standing out from all the rest, a huge black beetle crawls free and up the trunk, almost onto his fingers.

With a hiss, he quickly yanks his hand back.

Real, definitely real.

“Okay,” he mutters to himself, rocking back a step. “Okay, okay, okay…”

Maybe he just wasn’t paying enough attention to where he was going. Maybe, if he just walks a few paces back through the trees, he’ll once again be on the camping ground and everything will be normal again. With a sudden sense of urgency flooding his veins, Dick hurries forwards, completely forgetting about his jacket where he dropped it on the ground. Branches whip at his sides as he pushes through them, scratching at his arms. Even tearing at his shirt. But, as Dick’s legs carry him further and further with no end to the forest in sight, a few cuts and tears hardly seem important.

“All right,” he says, eventually, half-out of breath and desperate as he stops to lean against a tree. “All right. So you got turned around a little, no big deal. Just grab your phone, call Mr. Haly. He’ll get the park rangers out to find you. It’ll be fine.”

Talking to himself probably isn’t the greatest sign of that, but it does make Dick feel a little better as he pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket and unlocks the screen. Only his heart drops a moment later, as he notices the complete lack of signal bars at the top, with not even a ‘EMERGENCY CALLS ONLY’ message to offer him at least some hope of rescue.

Stubborn to the last, he tries dialling anyway. First Mr. Haly’s number, then Lukask’s, before finally hitting 911. Each attempt ends in the harsh noise of a broken dial tone, even when Dick turns himself in every direction possible and lifts the phone into the air above his head.

“God damn, son of a… worthless piece of crap!” Dick swears after what must be his tenth attempt at this. The urge to throw his phone at the nearest tree is strong, but he resists by the skin of his teeth. Destroying his only means of communication to the outside world won’t help anything, least of all him.

This doesn’t make any sense! He’d walked maybe ten paces after the bird, if that. How could he have gotten so lost so quickly? He shouldn’t have even been out of sight of the treeline, let alone in the middle of woods so thick.

And, as if to add to the shittiness of the situation, it’s also starting to get dark as well.

Dick shivers as he considers his options, wishing that he’d stopped to grab his jacket from the ground before running off through the trees. They always say in these situations that you should stay where you are and wait for rescue, and surely by now Mr. Haly and the rest of them will have noticed his absence. So long as he stays patient and keeps an ear out for them calling for him, he’ll be fine.

Yes, Dick thinks, taking a seat against the trunk of the nearest tree, he’ll be fine.

Absolutely, totally fine.

* * *

An hour later, now openly starting to shake from the cold, Dick is seriously starting to rethink the whole ‘staying put’ idea.

It’s completely dark now, and the shadows make the shapes of the trees around him loom even larger and more intimidating, as well as reduce his vision to no more than a few feet in front of him. Dick can just about make out the breath misting from his lips, as well as the faint light of stars through the canopy overhead. But that’s all. He certainly can’t see the sources of all the strange sounds that have sprung up around him. The haunting bird calls and croaking frogs. Sounds that wouldn’t be at all unnerving if he was sitting at home in his caravan or around the campfire with his family, but out here, alone, cold and in the dark, they take on a sinister edge that constantly has the hair on the back of his arms and neck prickling.

He’s hungry too, and a little bit thirsty. Not enough that it’s a big deal yet, but the longer this goes on, the greater a problem Dick knows it will become. Knowing that a human can survive up to three days without water and three weeks without food is one thing, experiencing it for himself quite another.

“Stop that,” he mutters, as soon as he’s thought it. “You’re probably going to be out here like… one night. That’s all. There’s no reason to be dramatic.”

Maybe he could try starting a fire. That’d help them find him. He’s seen it done on some of those wilderness survival shows before using sticks. It can’t be that hard, right? He has tough hands. It’s part and parcel of being an aerialist. He can totally do that.

Standing back up from where he’s sitting, Dick starts to look around for some suitable pieces of wood, only to freeze in place when a new sound cuts through the gloom and straight to the pit of his stomach.

A howl. Something is howling out there, and barking. Thunder rolls through the air, as well. Except…

No, Dick realises, that’s not thunder. It’s _hooves_.

On instinct, he rocks back a step. Wolves? Hunting maybe? And they’re heading straight towards him. Oh god, he’s either going to be flattened by deer or eaten by wolves. What the hell?

Quickly, he looks up at the tree he’s next to. If he climbs—

The blast of a horn freezes him in place just as he’s about to leap for the nearest branch. Voices, human voices, accompany it, barely rising above the din of everything else.

 _People_. Dick’s heart leaps into his mouth. Those are people coming towards him! At once, he abandons his plan to climb the tree. He has no idea what they could be doing out here at this time of night, with — presumably — horses and dogs, not deer and wolves, but he doesn’t care. People mean hope, mean _rescue_.

He starts to step forwards towards the sounds, only to yelp loudly when something abruptly crashes out of the nearest bush and straight into him.

It’s a boy, maybe the same age as or a couple years younger than Dick himself. Dick gets a flash of pale skin, dark curled hair and wide eyes that, in what little light there is, might be either green or blue.

“What the hell!” he exclaims, hands instinctively coming up to catch him as he fights not to fall backwards from the impact.

The boy yanks back before Dick can get a proper grasp on him. “What are you doing just standing there, you idiot?” he snaps, in a voice that’s harsh and grating. “Run!”

“Run?” Dick feels dizzied. The other sounds are growing louder and louder. The dogs’ baying, the hammering of the horses’ hooves. The whooping shouts of the people, that suddenly remind him of the drunken yelling of college students across the country who’d take joy rides and throw things at their camp. “Run from what?”

“Them!”

The boy points behind him, and he looks.

Dick’s brain shorts out. There’s no other way to describe it. The grey matter inside his head wriggles like a nest of worms, denying both reality and understanding. He looks, but he doesn’t see. There are shapes that make no sense. The dogs and horses, sure, he can make those out. But the beings riding them—

“Run!” the boy shouts again, and this time grabs hold of Dick’s arm to haul him along.

He runs. Bolts actually, like a frightened deer. His legs, strong and well-muscled from practicing acrobatics and the trapeze practically his entire life, now turn themselves to the sprint. But even so, it doesn’t feel like either he or the boy are running fast enough, as the terrifying sounds behind them only continue to draw closer.

He saw _horns_. Saw wings. Saw carapaces and fur and feathers and sharp, sharp teeth. Saw—

Something whistles past his ear to thunk into one of the tree trunks ahead. An arrow, Dick thinks dumbly, and as he yelps and flinches to the side, there’s the raucous sound of laughter added to the mix.

“Don’t stop!” the boy demands, keeping pace beside him.

Stopping is the last thing Dick plans to do, but another arrow skimming past his ear does make him jerk to the side and stumble. Only the solid grip of the boy’s hand on his arm keeps him upright as they run, helter skelter through the trees.

They jump logs, dodge branches. Trip over roots and crash through thorny thickets. The latter of which at least give them some breathing room from the hunters, as they’re forced to divert their horses around the thick brush. The dogs struggle through, though, and Dick has to kick at least one away when it gets close enough to snap at his heel.

“We should… climb up…” he pants harshly, the moment he has the breath.

“No!” the boy responds, in a brusque, businesslike tone. Somehow he doesn’t sound out of breath. Not the way Dick does. “They’d just shoot us down. We have to—” he stops suddenly, cursing in a language Dick doesn’t understand when they hit what appears to be the edge of a very steep hill.

“Shit,” Dick says, staring down it. His lungs feel raw and tight in his chest. “Shit, shit, shit… what do we do?”

He looks at the boy, only to find those strange two-toned eyes giving him an oddly calculating stare. Before he can open his mouth to question it, though, the boy reaches forward and shoves both hands hard into Dick’s chest.

A familiar feeling of weightlessness hangs over him for a moment before gravity takes hold. Dick can’t shout, can’t even gasp in horror and fear before the breath is knocked out of him. He hits the ground like a lead weight, rolls, then keeps on hitting it. Over and over, through brush and grass, hard roots and some notably painful rocks. Blind instinct and training causes him to curl himself into as small a ball as he can, and that’s probably the only thing that manages to save him from broken bones on the way down, until finally he hits the bottom of the hill and crashes straight into a waiting pond.

The freezing water is a veritable shock to his system, pushing him to immediately scramble up and out despite the incredibly bruising pain he’s in. Like a zombie, Dick staggers out of the water and onto the nearby muddy banks, where he immediately falls to his knees and stares back up at the fall he’s taken.

This is a nightmare. It’s an actual, literal nightmare. Except the blood on his tongue and the bruises on his body mean it’s also distressingly real, rather than anything he can simply wake up from.

“Shit,” he whispers, before spitting hard on the ground to clear his mouth.

The boy didn’t come down with him. Yet from the top of the hillside, Dick can still hear the echoes of the pack, joyful in the pursuit of their prey.

What was that? Some kind of heroic attempt to save him? Or, perhaps, one to use Dick as a distraction that backfired horribly.

He doesn’t know. But now he’s alone again in the dark. Cold, frightened and miserable.

God, he hopes the kid doesn’t end up getting killed.

It takes another minute for Dick to convince himself to stand up again. Staying still and waiting for rescue is definitely no longer good advice, and so despite having absolutely no idea where he’s going, he starts walking through the woods again, hoping to find either a way out or some help. Preferably both.

Damn it, damn it, damn it. He’d just wanted to help a _bird_.

He goes to try his phone again as he walks, only to realise that the fall and subsequent landing in the pond have completely broken it. Getting a signal no longer matters when the damn thing is completely cracked and waterlogged.

Cursing, he finally gives into his earlier urge and lobs it hard against the closest tree, where it shatters apart and falls into pieces against the ground.

“My,” a nearby voice says then. “You seem unhappy.”

Dick starts badly, before whipping around to face the source of it.

A man stands looming between the shadow of two trees, tall and thickly built. Dick squints to try and make out more details than that, but as in everything else, the darkness is too good a cloak to see much through. All he can really discern at this distance is the faint outline of white hair around the man’s head.

That, and a glint of metal from looks like a fucking _sword_ on his hip.

Dick’s heartbeat, which has only recently managed to slow down after being chased, immediately starts hammering again inside his chest.

“Stay away from me!” he manages to stammer, staggering back a step.

“Easy now,” The man moves forward after him, with one hand now lifted up in a calming gesture. “I’m not like the rest of them. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Dick swallows thickly. “I don’t even know who _they_ are. How am I supposed to believe you?”

More details emerge as the man steps closer. An older, handsomely bearded face, old-fashioned clothes (really old fashioned, with what looks like a fur lined cloak and tunic) and... pointed ears? Shit, yes, those are definitely pointed ears, like something out of the Lord of the Rings or Star Trek, but otherwise he looks almost distressingly normal. At least compared to the strange, outlandish creatures Dick saw chasing him before.

“Because I can tell you who they are, and just what it is you’ve stumbled into.” The man stops a short distance from him, both hands now raised peacefully, which allows Dick to notice, in addition to everything else, that he’s also missing his left eye. The place where it’s supposed to be is instead covered by a dark eyepatch. And the other one—

It’s a strangely vibrant shade of blue, with a slitted pupil like a cat’s.

Dick stares at it as the man continues, “More importantly that that, I can help you get out of here alive.”

Help him? Dick bites his lip, curiosity waging against fear. He does want to know, and more importantly than that, he wants to get the hell out of here. That this stranger could possibly help him with both those things is a thoroughly tempting proposal, except for the fact that there is clearly something not right about him either. Nothing so wrongly obvious as the other beings chasing him, but something not right nonetheless.

“Who are you?” he asks hoarsely, tasting blood on his tongue again.

The man smiles at the question. “My name is Slade,” he says, tilting his head forward slightly. “I’m a fae, just like those who are chasing you, and this is the night of the Wild Hunt.”

Dick only understands a fraction of the words in that sentence.

“Fae?” he repeats in confusion. “Wild Hunt? What…”

Slade keeps smiling at him, now looking mildly amused. “I believe your people prefer to call us ‘fairies’ these days. Or the ‘Fair Folk’, depending on where you come from.”

The only fairies Dick can think of are tiny with green dresses and insect wings. They don’t look like this man here. They don’t look like those _things_ he saw back at the top of the hill, either.

“That doesn’t make sense.” he protests, mind defensively trying to hold onto some semblance of reality as he knows it.

“And yet it’s the truth.”

“It doesn’t…” Dick presses his hand to his face, shaking. His arm is streaked with drying mud. Raising his other hand, he scratches at in a dull attempt to focus himself. It only helps a little. “Fairies don’t exist. None of this… it’s not possible.”

Slade’s doesn’t look perturbed by Dick’s denial as he lowers his hands. “Once a year,” he goes on, as if Dick hadn’t said that last part, “We hold a tradition called the Wild Hunt. A free for all chase where every member of the fae court competes to bring down a chosen target. Sometimes it’s a human like yourself, sometimes it’s something else. But the one thing that is always the same is that the hunt doesn’t end until the target is captured or dead. Usually the latter.”

“And this year it’s me?” Dick realises, looking up at Slade with his expression raw and open. “Wh—why? What did I do? I didn’t…”

“You didn’t do anything, except be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Slade steps closer again, now extending his hand towards him. “But I can help you get away from them. If you entrust yourself to me, I can keep you safe.”

Dick twitches, something about the particular phrasing of the words unnerving him. This all feels so surreal still, and he has to clamp down on the pain in his body to remember that it’s not all just a weird nightmare again. “But you said you’re also a… You’re not part of this Wild Hunt thing?”

“I’m not part of the group chasing you, no.” Slade says, with grave solemnity. Not too far away, Dick thinks he hears a dog bark.

“But you are a fair—a fae person. So why are you helping me?”

“Not all of us are the same boy.” Slade answers him patiently. “Just as all humans are not the same. My goals, my wants, are different from theirs.”

That is true, he supposes. Dick keeps staring down at his hand. “There was another boy they were chasing,” he says, “What about him?”

Slade blinks. Or winks. Or… Dick isn’t exactly thinking straight at the moment. What do you call it when someone only has one eye?

“Another…” Slade echoes, then narrows his eye. “I’m afraid I do not know where he is. He may be dead already. But you still have a chance to live.”

Dick shivers at the words. The boy… he’s still not sure if he was trying to help him when he shoved Dick down the hill. He doesn’t want him to be dead, though. But then again, he also doesn’t want to be dead himself either.

“By ‘entrusting’ myself to you. What… what do you mean by that?”

Slade smiles at him again. There’s something pleased about it. Like the way one smiles at a pet when it performs an unexpected trick.

“As I said, the Hunt usually goes on until the target is dead, but under certain circumstances there is an exception. Another way out for you, if you take it. Give yourself to me and you’ll be under my protection, and they won’t be able to touch you.”

Dick swallows. “You mean they’ll just… stop?”

“They must. To not do so would risk inviting consequences upon them. Unpleasant ones. The rules of our kind are very strict.”

He almost says yes right then and there, except some sliver of self-preservation rears its head first .

“How do I know I can trust you?” he asks.

“Simple,” Slade answers him. “Fae can’t lie. We’re incapable of it.”

They can’t lie? What kind of person can’t lie? It sounds like a lie in itself for anyone to say so, and Dick opens his mouth to tell Slade that before a deep howl interrupts them.

Stopping, Dick turns his head back sharply in the direction he came from as the sound of dogs barking once again fills the air. Not just dogs, but hooves too, alongside the familiar blast of a horn and excited voices.

“Damn it,” Slade grunts, far too calmly. “The hounds must have picked up on your scent again. We’re almost out of time.”

Dick on the other hand, is not calm. Instead, he’s ready to bolt again, rocking back on the heels of his feet and looking in the direction of the noise with huge, frightened eyes.

“We have to run,” he says. “We have to—”

“No.” Slade moves into his line of sight again. “They’ll catch you. You need to do as I say. If you want to live, entrust yourself to me, and I promise you’ll be safe from them.”

Dick doesn’t answer, he’s too busy staring behind Slade at the pack bearing down at them.The horror of it once again puts his heart into overdrive and sends adrenaline flooding through his veins. He can’t see the boy running ahead of them anymore either. What happened to him? Did they kill him just like Slade said? Oh god…

“Boy!” Slade’s hand is firm as it grips his shoulder, and he bends his head to ensure that he’s now the only thing Dick can see. “You don’t have time for this. Give yourself to me, _now_ , and I promise you will live.”

He’s so scared, he doesn’t even notice the change of phrasing. Instead, all he focuses on is that this man is promising to protect him, and with the pack getting ever closer, Dick can’t see any other option but to take the chance that Slade really is telling the truth.

“Fine!” he says, seizing the other hand Slade is still offering out in front of him. “I will! I accept. Whatever, just don’t let them—”

Large, powerful fingers close around his in a grip that’s deathly tight, and without further ado Dick finds himself suddenly yanked forward into an intimidatingly broad chest. Without thinking, he reaches out his other hand to brace himself against Slade’s shoulder, only to yelp when it’s met with stabbing pain.

He forces himself to look up. He thought Slade’s cloak was bordered by fur, but now he realises, with growing disquiet, that it only looked that way from a distance. The fur is actually thorns. Small, thin, sharp, needle-like thorns, somehow sewn into the material of the cloak. Thousands of them, as evidenced by the fresh blood that now coats his palm.

“What?” he whispers to himself. “Slade…”

“Hush.”

The question is on his lips of why the fuck anyone would wear a cloak of thorns, but Slade’s quick shushing, as well as the shaking of the ground as the pack draws near, stops it from passing his lips. All Dick can do is gasp as he’s crushed in even tighter against Slade’s chest, causing his arms to also get scratched up and bloodied.

“Slade!” The sound of the hooves stop and the dogs go quiet as a harsh voice calls out, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Slade chuckles in response, and Dick starts a little as one of the man’s huge hands lifts to settle itself in his hair. “What does it look like I’m doing, Roman? I’m winning.”

“Winning?” The owner of that voice says incredulously, and the word is quickly echoed by the snarls and hisses of his compatriots. “You’re not even part of this hunt!”

“Not part of the hunt?” Dick tries to peek up at Slade’s face, but all he can really see at this angle is his beard. “Hm, that’s strange. When did I say that?”

“At the party. You said you...” The man… fae… Roman starts, then falters, before shouting. “You promised us prey! You owed me—”

“I did,” Slade responds. “And I have provided it. But I also did not promise that I wouldn’t participate this time around. My debt is paid, Roman, as we agreed. But I’m afraid you’ve still lost. The boy has just given me his surrender. Surely, you can feel it.”

Something cold and icy drops into the pit of Dick’s stomach.

“He’s right.” A woman speaks up this time. She sounds vaguely disgusted. “The boy has surrendered himself. We can’t touch him.”

There’s a brief pause before, incensed, Sionis yells, “You tricked us!”

“I didn’t trick you.” Slade says, fingers carding through Dick’s hair. Somehow, bizarrely, the action calms him, despite the horrible realisation he’s in the midst of having. “You just didn’t listen.”

Another female voice giggles, “He’s got ya there, Blackie.”

“You son of a…” The hard scrape of metal against leather fills the air. “I’ll kill you for this!”

“You’re welcome to try, though I think we both already know how that will turn out.” Slade isn’t ruffled in the slightest by the threat, though he does shift his grip slightly on Dick. A motion that makes new scratches against his arms but also allows him finally to turn his head and look closer at the gathered hunters.

He almost wishes he hadn’t. They’re even more nightmarish up close. The one in front, sat on a great bay stallion and holding the sword, has a literal black skull for a face. Of the two women near him, one has completely green skin and red hair, and is wearing what looks like leaves for clothing, while her companion is painted like a clown in scarlet and black. Further back, there’s a man whose face is completely split down the middle, one half normal, one half burnt. A twisted scarecrow holds a sickle in its hand beside a great hulking reptile, and—

Dick’s vision blurs. He can’t take anymore of it in, and like a frightened rabbit this time voluntarily returns to hiding his face against Slade’s chest.

A moment of silence follows the words, interrupted only by more giggling from one of the women. Then the steel slides against leather again, the sword evidently returning to its sheath.

“This isn’t over.” Sionis says, though his tone is now more petulant than outright furious.

“I rather think it is.” Despite not being able to see his face, Dick has the impression Slade is smirking. “Now, if you all don’t mind, the boy here and I must be on our way.”

A snarl echoes, but then the first woman Dick heard speaks again, cutting through any growing rebellion with dour sensibility. “Come on, we’re wasting our time here. There’s plenty other prey we can find in the forest tonight.”

“Probably not as tasty looking as that one, though.” something hard and bestial rumbles out, causing Dick’s skin to prickle anew. But there’s no further protest from the rest of the group, and he clings tightly to Slade’s shirt as they thunder forward again, the ground shaking beneath hooves and paws until finally, blissfully, they’re gone.

“There now,” Slade says, a moment later, carding his fingers again through Dick’s hair. “Just as I promised. You’re safe from them.”

He almost relaxes completely then. Almost, bone tired and drained of strength, falls completely into the comforting strength of Slade’s arms and chest, despite the blood running down his hand and arms. The fae man feels safe. Smells good. Makes him want to… to just let go and…

But then the memory of what Sionis had said comes back to him, and Dick does his best to wrench himself away.

“You lied to me!” he tries to shout, only to find his voice won’t rise above a hoarse whisper. “You said you couldn’t lie, but you…”

“Did I?” Slade allows him to step back at least, even if he doesn’t let Dick go completely. “When?”

“I asked you ‘why me’! And you just said it was because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” he stares up at him, suddenly hating how tall Slade is. “Not that you were the one who brought me here!”

A low chuckle answers his indignant cry. “You _were_ in the wrong place at the wrong time. For you, anyway. That wasn’t a lie, boy.”

“It wasn’t the truth either!”

“No, but it was _a_ truth,” One of Slade’s hands keeps hold of Dick’s, and he hasn’t the strength to pull it away. The catlike nature of Slade’s eye is almost hypnotising as he looks back down at him. “And the truth takes many forms. Nothing I told you was a lie. You simply chose what to hear, just like the rest of them.”

“You tricked me,” Dick shakes his head in denial. “You tricked me like you tricked them.”

“Oh hardly that. I owed Sionis something to hunt, and you were such a pretty thing walking at the edge of the forest. I never had any intention of letting him hurt you, though. I promise you that.” Slade tugs Dick closer again, and despite himself, he can’t find the will to fight it. Not when the thorns scratch against his shoulders, and Slade’s other arm curls around the small of his back. “Letting that mob and their dogs tear something as beautiful as you to pieces would have been nothing more than a waste.”

“You’re a bastard! You…” Dick’s head tips forward, and there’s nowhere else for him to rest it except against Slade’s chest. He wishes he knew what it was about the fae that smells so good. More than that, he wishes he didn’t like the scent in the first place. “I don’t understand any of this. I hate it. I hate _you_. You and this whole stupid game you were playing! I’m done being a part of it. You got what you wanted; now take me _home_.”

There’s a second’s pause in the wake of his demand, then a low, throaty laugh from Slade. One that sends a very different chill running up Dick’s spine.

“Oh, kid, whoever said anything about taking you home?”

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/)


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